TEUTONIC MYTH AND LEGEND

by DONALD A. MACKENZIE

An Introduction to the Eddas & Sagas, Beowulf, The Nibelungenlied, etc.

London, Gresham Publications 1912

CHAPTER 27

Helgi Hundingsbane

Helgi's Youth--Hunding slain in Battle--Wooing of the Valkyrie Maid--Hodbrod, the Rival--How Sigrun was won--Dag's Vengeance--Helgi is slain--Sigrun's Curse--She sorrows for her Husband--Helgi's Ghost--Meeting with Sigrun--The Love Song at the Grave--Lovers born again.

SIGMUND became a mighty ruler, and he made Borghild his queen. In happiness they dwelt together, and they had two sons who were named Helgi and Hamund. At Helgi's birth norns came and foretold that he would achieve great renown, as indeed he did, for while, he was yet a youth he became a far-famed warrior, strong-armed and fierce, in battle prowness surpassing even his sire.

In time, Helgi was chosen to be chief leader of the army, and so fiercely did he fight against King Hunding that he was surnamed Hundingsbane.

Now Helgi in his boyhood had gone in disguise to Hunding's hall, where he was reared and trained in feats of strength. The day came when he was ready to wield arms against his country's foe, so he took his departure. As he left the Hall, he sent a message to King Hunding, making known whom he had fostered. The king was wroth, and he sent out warriors to slay the lad. But Helgi disguised himself as a bondmaid, and when his pursuers entered the house in which he had taken refuge they saw a woman grinding corn.

"The bondmaid hath fierce eyes," they said. "She is not the daughter of a peasant. Her hands are more fitted for the sword."

So strong was Helgi, and so swiftly did he work, that the millstones were broken. It is not a warrior's task to grind corn.

In the war that followed a great battle was fought, and Helgi slew Hunding. Several of the king's sons fell by his sword in another battle, and those who survived vowed blood vengeance against him.

As Helgi left the battlefield he clad himself in a wolfskin, and in a forest he met a fair princess who was named Sigrun. She rode on a white horse and her maidens rode behind her. King Hogni, against whom Helgi had fought, was her sire, and she was a valkyrie and a swan maid.

The young warrior was heart-stricken with love for the fair princess, and he besought her to be his bride. But she told him that her sire had already promised her to Hodbrod, son of King Granmar; whereat Helgi vowed that he would go against his rival in battle. Then did Sigrun promise to be his bride when he had slain the hated Hodbrod.

So it fell that Helgi Hundingsbane warred against Hodbrod and his allies, the kinsfolk of Sigrun. He crossed the seas with Sinfjotle and a strong army; but a great tempest broke forth, and the ships would have been foundered had not the valkyrie maid come to protect them. After enduring great tribulation Helgi reached the kingdom of Granmar, where he fought a great battle. Sigrun hovered in mid-air, and gave her lover sure protection, and he prevailed over Hodbrod and slew him. Then was Hogni slain also, and all his sons fell with him save Dag.

Sigrun hailed her lover and gave him praise because that he had slain the mighty Hodbrod, yet did she mourn for her sire and her brothers.

Helgi comforted her, saying: "The norns have not given thee good fortune in all things. I have slain thy kindred. Thou couldst not choose otherwise, because it was thy doom from birth to be the cause of great bloodshed. For thy sake have warriors striven. Weep not, Sigrun; heroes must die at their appointed time."

Sigrun embraced her lover and said: "Although those who have fallen were still alive, I would love but Helgi."

Then Helgi reigned over the land which he had conquered, and Sigrun was his queen. With Dag he took vows of fellowship and spared his life; but Hogni's son deemed that the call of blood vengeance was stronger than the oaths he had taken, even although he had sworn by Hela's holy river, and he resolved in his heart to take Helgi's life.

Now it fell that Odin intervened. He gave to Dag his great spear Gungner, and as the youth went with the king through a forest grove, he drave the spear through Helgi's back, so that he fell dying upon the green sward. Thus was Hogni avenged.

But great was Sigrun's grief when Dag came to her with tidings that he had slain the world's best king. On his head she heaped curses, nor could she be consoled.

"May thine oaths smite thee," she cried: "all the oaths thou didst swear with Helgi by Hela's shining stream. May thy ship sink with thee, although fair winds prevail. May thy horse stumble when thou art pursued by thy foes. May thy sword in battle wound none but thyself. The death of Helgi must be avenged against thee, and thou shalt be a wolf in the forest. . . .

Be thy life empty of all thou dost desire. May thy food be the flesh of dead men."

"Wouldst thou call down such ill upon thy brother?" Dag pleaded with her. "The hand of Odin hath been laid heavily on Helgi. I shall give to thee golden rings, and half of the kingdom for thyself and thy sons."

But Sigrun wailed in her grief: "Oh! never again can I be glad, neither by day nor by night. I love not life any more, for I shall ne'er behold my shining hero who was blithe in the hall and valorous in battle. High was Helgi above all other men as the ash tree is high above shrubs. . . . Never again can I see him alive."

A grave mound was raised over Helgi's body, and his spirit went to Valhal. Odin made him chief ruler, and he gave Hunding a bondsman's tasks, for he set him to hew wood, to leash the hounds, and groom the horses, and ere he went to sleep to give mash to the swine.

But Helgi could not be happy even in Valhal, because that Sigrun cried ever for him; as bitterly and oft as her tears fell his wounds bled afresh. By nighttime he rode to the grave mound with many followers. There was no rest for Helgi among the dead.

Sigrun's bondmaid beheld the ghastly warriors riding round the mound, and she cried to them: "Why ride ye forth, ye dead men? Can slain warriors return home again? Or hath the world's end come at length?"

"The world's end hath come not yet," the slain warmen made answer, "but dead heroes would fain return home. . . . The wounds of Helgi bleed afresh because of Sigrun's sorrow. Bid her come hither to stay the unceasing flow of anguish."

Then did the bondmaid go unto Sigrun. "Hasten thee to the grave mound," she cried. "Dead men are abroad, and thou mayest behold the king once more. Helgi is there; his wounds bleed ever because of thy tears, and he would fain that thou wouldst give him healing."

Sigrun's tears ceased falling awhile. "Glad am I to go forth even in darkness unto Helgi," she cried, "and may the dews never shine to the dawn. His cold lips shall I kiss; I shall embrace my dead hero."

So she hastened unto the grave mound, and there she beheld her lord. Wan and pale was he indeed, and sorrow-stricken and cold. Sigrun kissed him and embraced him, and cried:

"O Helgi, thy hair is white with rime; thou art drenched with the dews of death. Cold, cold are thy hands; they are dripping blood. How shall I heal thee, O my hero?

Helgi made answer: "Bright flower of the south, thy tears have made me wet; thy sorrow hath drenched me with the dews of death. Ere thou dost sleep, O gold-decked maid. thou dost ever weep most bitter tears, and they fall upon my breast; as drops of blood they fall: they are cold and they pierce me: heavy are they and sharp as is thine anguish. . . . Grieve not although life and kingdom be lost; sing not the dirge of mourning although my wounds are deep, for know that dead men have brides and kings' dead daughters are with them."

Sigrun spread out a smooth grave bed for Helgi, and said to him, speaking low:

"A bed without pain I have made for thee, Helgi in comfort thou shalt rest upon it, O son of the Volsungs. O my king, O my love, I shall lie in thy bosom. I shall take thee in mine arms as if thou wert still alive."

"White maid whom I loved," spake Helgi, "strange would it indeed be if the high-born daughter of King Hogni were laid while yet alive in a dead man's arms. . . . Now forth must I ride on the dawn-red road. I must climb, on my steed, the bridge of the gods, ere the shining cock of Asgard awakens the heroes in Valhal."

So they parted there at the grave mound, and Helgi, mounting on his steed, vanished in mid-air.

But when the day passed, and the night fell, Sigrun again returned to the grave mound of Helgi. She wept no tears and waited, but her hero came not nigh. All through the hours of darkness she waited, until the dawn broke faintly through the trees. Sitting there by her husband's grave mound, the love-lorn lady sang:

Ah! would that he came
For fain would I greet him;
He would come if he knew
That I wait here to meet him;
He'd come were he hearing--
Heart-hearing my call,
The son of great Sigmund,

From Odin's high hall.

O Helgi, mine own,
My fair one, my rare one
Helgi, mine own.

Now waneth my hope
Of Helgi's returning,
For the eagles awake
And the dawn fires are burning;
My love hath not heard me,
He comes not to-night. . . .
All the elf folk and death folk
To Dreamland take flight.

O Helgi, mine own,
My white one, my bright one
Helgi, mine own.

The bondswoman soothed Sigrun, and 'twas thus she sang to her:--

Oh! hush thee. Oh! hush . . . who maketh thy moan,
White Queen of the Southland,
Fair Sigrun who waiteth in darkness alone,
O loved one of Helgi;
Thy heart should be filled, not with hope, but with dread
'T is well that dawn cometh and black night hath fled
More fearsome and fierce are the warriors dead
In darkness than day-shine.

But Sigrun would not be comforted, and she died of sorrow, Sad minstrels, singing to harp music in the feasting hall, have told that Helgi and Sigrun were born to life again.

Clerk Saunders

Clerk Saunders and May Margaret
Walked ower yon garden green;
And sad and heavy was the love
That fell thir twa between.

. . . . . .

It was about the midnight hour,
When they asleep were laid,
When in came her seven brothers
Wi' torches burning red.

. . . . . .

Then up and gat the seventh o' them,
And never a word spake he;
But he has striped his bright brown brand
Out through Clerk Saunders' fair bodye.

Clerk Saunders he started and Margaret she turned
Into his arms as asleep she lay;
And sad and silent was the night
That was atween thir twae.

. . . . . .

The clinking bell gaed through the town,
To carry the dead corpse to the clay;
And Clerk Saunders stood at May Margaret's window
I wot, an hour before the day.

"Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says,
"Or are ye waking presentlie?
Give me my faith and troth again,
I wot, true love, I gied to thee."

"Your faith and troth ye sall never get,
Nor our true love sall never twin,
Until ye come within my bower
And kiss me cheek and chin."

"My mouth it is full cold, Margaret,
It smells now o' the ground;
And if I kiss thy comely mouth
Thy days o' life will no' be lang.

"O, cocks are crowing a merry midnight,
I wot the wild fowls are boding day;
Give me my faith and troth again,
And let me fare me on my way."

"Thy faith and troth thou sall na get,
And our true love shall never twin,
Until ye tell what comes o' women,
I wot, who die in strong traivelling?"

"Their beds are made in heaven high,
Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee,
Weel set about wi' gilly flowers;
I wot sweet company for to see.

"O, cocks are crowing at merry midnight,
I wot the wild fowl are boding day;
The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,
And I, ere now, will be miss'd away.

Then she has ta'en a crystal wand,
And she has stroken her troth thereon;
She has given it him out at the shot-window,
Wi' mony a sad sigh, and heavy groan.

"I thank ye, Marg'ret; I thank ye, Margaret;
And aye I thank ye heartilie;
Gin ever the dead come for the quick,
Be sure, Marg'ret, I'll come for thee."

It 's hosen and shoon, and gown alone,
She climb'd the wall, and followed him,
Until she came to the green forest,
And there she lost the sight o' him.

"Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?
Is there ony room at your feet ,
Or ony room at your side, Saunders,
Where fain, fain I would sleep?"

"There's nae room at my bead, Marg'ret,
There's nae room at my feet;
My bed it is full lowly now:
Amang the hungry worms I sleep.

"Cauld mould is my covering now,
But and my winding-sheet;
The dew it falls nae sooner down
Than my resting-place is weet.

"But plait a wand o' bonny birk,
And lay it on my breast;
And shed a tear upon my grave,
And wish my soul gude rest.

"And fair Marg'ret and rare Marg'ret,
And Marg'ret o' veritie,
Gin e'er ye love another man,
Ne'er love him as ye did me."

Then up and crew the milk-white cock,
And up and crew the grey;
Her lover vanish'd in the air,
And she gaed weeping away,

Scottish Border Ballad

TEUTONIC MYTH AND LEGEND

by DONALD A. MACKENZIE

An Introduction to the Eddas & Sagas, Beowulf, The Nibelungenlied, etc.

London, Gresham Publications 1912

CHAPTER 26

How Sigmund was Avenged

The Forest Hut--Waiting the Day of Vengeance--Signy's Sons--Why they were slain--Sinfjotle, the Volsung--The Were-wolves--Attack on King Siggeir's Hall--Avengers buried alive--Their Escape--Siggeir's Fate--Signy's Tragic Farewell--Sigmund returns to his Kingdom--Usurper overthrown.

FOR long years, through summer's heat and winter cold, did Sigmund dwell in his forest hut, biding his time. Signy had two sons, and it was her heart's hope that their Volsung blood would stir them up to avenge her sire's death. She set at length to proving their worth. On their hands she put winter gloves, which she sewed through their flesh. But they cried out thereat, and she feared that they had more of Siggeir's nature than that of her kin.

When the eldest was ten years old she sent him unto Sigmund, so that it might be found whether he was fit to give service n the work of blood vengeance. Sigmund greeted the lad and took him within his hut. Then secretly he placed a venomous serpent in the meal sack, and having bidden Signy's son to bake bread, he went through the forest to gather firewood.

In time he returned, and he found that no bread had been baked, so he asked why it was not ready.

"I feared to place my hand in the meal sack," said the lad, "because something darted quickly in it."

Sigmund knew then that the lad lacked courage, and when he met with Signy he said her son was unworthy to be a Volsung.

"Then he is unworthy to live," his mother cried angrily. So Sigmund slew him.

Another winter came, and Signy sent her second son unto her brother; but he proved to be timorous like the first, and was put to death also.

Signy next conspired with a witch, and they changed shapes. The witch lived in Siggeir's hall as his queen. and Signy went through the forest towards Sigmund's secret dwelling. She begged for food and shelter, nor did her brother have knowledge of who she was. For three nights she dwelt in the underground hut and then returned to her home, where she again changed shapes with the witch.

In time Signy's third son was born, and he was indeed of Volsung blood. The name he received was Sinfjotle, and he grew up to pleasure his mother's heart, fair as her kin and strong and without fear. In secret she told him of her sire, and of how he died through Siggeir's treachery, and she told him of the wolf which devoured her fettered brothers. She filled his heart with the glory of the Volsungs and he took pride in their fame. One day she set to proving him, and she sewed gloves on his hands and wrists, piercing his flesh with the needle. But he twitched not a muscle, and her heart was gladdened. Then she tore off the gloves, and the raw flesh was laid bare.

"I have given thee sufficient pain," she said.

But the youth smiled. "Volsung", said he, "would shrink not from wounds so slight."

Soon afterwards Sinfjotle was sent by his mother unto Sigmund, and he was received as were the others, and set to bake bread. A venomous serpent was again placed in the meal sack.

When Sigmund returned with firewood, he found that the bread was made ready.

"Found ye aught in the sack?" he asked the lad.

"Something darted quickly through the meal," Sinfjotle answered, "but I paused not to discover what it was, and it is baked in the bread."

Volsung's great son was well pleased with the lad, but he warned him not to partake of the bread, because he could resist not the poison. But Sigmund ate of it himself, because he was of such great strength that the venom could harm him not.

Signy's son remained with Sigmund, who trained him in feats of strength. Together they robbed and murdered men in the forest, and the lad proved his worth and grew speedily to full strength. Sigmund thought sure he was a son of Siggeir, and he ever prompted him to avenge the death of Volsung, for he feared that the lad was but a Gaut at heart. So he regarded the lad with suspicion, and was watchful lest he might prove treacherous like to Siggeir.

It chanced that on a darksome night they came together to a house in which robbers lay asleep. There they found two wolfskins, which gave those who wore them power to change their shapes. These they took away, and when they put them on, Sigmund and Sinfjotle were transformed into were-wolves. Then were they fierce indeed. Between them they made a compact that one would call upon the other if confronted by seven men, and then they parted to prowl for their prey in the deep forest.

Ere long Sigmund had to fight against seven men. He set up the loud wolf howl, and Sinfjotle hastened to his aid, and between them they slew all the band. After that they parted, and then Sinfjotle had to contend against eleven men. But Signy's wolf son uttered no cry. He fought fiercely and alone, and slaughtered all his opponents. Then wearily he lay down to rest.

Sigmund came towards him soon afterwards, and when he found that Sinfjotle had surpassed him in valour he sprang upon the youth with wolf anger and did him grievous injury. But he speedily repented what he had done, and carried his companion to the underground dwelling, where he lay nigh unto death. In sore distress was Sigmund, and he vowed never again to go forth as a wolf. Then it chanced that he saw two weasels who fought together. One seized the other as he had done to Signy's son, but it ran speedily to find a herb which restored its companion to full strength again. He sought to find the healing herb, and a raven 1 flew towards him bearing a leaf in its beak, which it let fall at his feet. Perceiving that it was of the herb he desired to find, Sigmund hastened to his hut and laid the leaf upon Sinfjotle's wounds. The youth was at once healed and the affliction passed.

Together the heroes waited until they could regain their wonted shape again. Then they destroyed the wolfskins, lest the one should slay the other.

Sigmund perceived that the lad was his equal in strength, and deemed that the time had come when they could wreak Volsung vengeance against Siggeir, King of the Gauts. So they armed themselves and went forth. When they reached the hall they concealed themselves among the mead casks which stood along the entrance way. But ere night fell two of Siggeir's children, who played with a golden ball, cried out because that they saw two grim warriors in shining armour crouching behind the casks. Sinfjotle sought to slay them, but Sigmund disdained to shed their blood. So the alarm was raised and Siggeir and his war-men issued forth to contend against the intruders. The avengers sprang up with drawn swords. They feared not the overwhelming force that clamoured for their blood. Sinfjotle first slew Siggeir's two children and then the fight raged fierce and fast. Many warriors fell. Sigmund and his companion made great slaughter, but their foemen were so numerous that in the end they were taken captive and bound.

Then did Siggeir and his nobles take counsel together to devise how the twain might be given the most cruel death, and it was decreed that they should be buried alive.

In the morning two stone grave chambers were made, one beside the other, and in these were Sigmund and Sinfjotle laid. Ere the slab and earth were placed over them, Signy came forth with flesh wrapped in straw and flung it into the graves. There was it allowed to remain, so that their torture might be prolonged. Then the barrows were covered over.

The buried heroes spake out one to another in the darkness, and Sigmund bethought him at length to partake of the flesh. So he cast aside the straw, and when he had done that he discovered that a sword was thrust through the flesh. He knew by the hilt that it was Gram, and his heart leapt within him.

With the wondrous sword the two men sawed through the great slab which covered the grave chambers, and when darkness fell they came forth.

It was the night of Volsung vengeance, long desired, long waited for. Sigmund and Sinfjotle hewed logs with Gram, and heaped the wood splinters round the hall. Then they put fire to them, and soon the dwelling of King Siggeir was wrapped in flames.

The king woke up, and through the smoke he cried in anguish: "Who hath come against me with fire? Now death assaileth me!"

Sigmund heard him, and in triumph he answered: "Now dost thou know, O treacherous man, that a son of Volsung remains alive. I am Sigmund, and Sinfjotle, son of Signy, is here with me."

The flames spread. Death encompassed all that were in the hall. None could escape, because the avengers guarded the door. But Sigmund was loath that Signy should perish, and he called to her to make escape with all the treasure she could seize. The queen heard her brother's voice amidst the roar of flames, and she came to the door with empty hands.

"Full well thou knowest," she said unto Sigmund, "that I never forgot how Siggeir killed King Volsung. My very children I had slain because they were too weakly to avenge my sire's death. But behold! Sinfjotle is a mighty warrior indeed, for he is not only mine own son, but a son of a son of King Volsung also. For vengeance have I striven through long years, so that Siggeir might have his deathdue in the end. Now my labour is finished and my purpose is achieved. I have no need of longer days, nor do I desire to live now. By compulsion was my life spent with Siggeir; now that I have free choice I shall die gladly with him. . . . Fare thee well."

So saying she kissed Sigmund and Sinfjotle, and hastening back to her husband she perished with him in the flames. . . . Thus was the death of King Volsung avenged.

Sigmund was now free to return to his own land, and with his son he crossed the sea. A usurper sat upon Volsung's throne, but he was speedily overcome by the avenging heroes, and the glory that had departed from Hunaland was restored once again.

Footnotes

TEUTONIC MYTH AND LEGEND

by DONALD A. MACKENZIE

An Introduction to the Eddas & Sagas, Beowulf, The Nibelungenlied, etc.

London, Gresham Publications 1912

CHAPTER 25

The Doom of the Volsungs

The Swan Maidens--Weland Legend----Asa-god's Adventure--The Treasure Curse--Fafner becomes a Dragon--Regin the Wonder Smith--The Volsung Family--Odin brings the Magic Sword--Marriage of Signy--King Siggeir's Treachery--Volsung and his Sons are slain--The Survivor, Sigmund--Desire for Vengeance.

ERE the sons of Ivalde warred against the gods, they loved three swan maidens, whose songs in summer were sweet to hear. One morning the snow-white birds flew towards a lake in Wolfdales. The brothers followed them, and. they beheld sitting on the shore three beauteous valkyries, who were singing and spinning flax. Beside them lay their swan coverings, and these the brothers captured. Then had they the swan maids in their power, and they took them to be their brides. Egil-Orvandel had Obrun, Slagfin-Gjuki had Swan-white, and Thjasse-Volund had All-white.

For seven years they all lived happily together. But in the eighth year the swan maids were seized with longing, and in the ninth they flew away in search of conflicts. Nor did they ever again return. In vain did Orvandel-Egil make swift pursuit on his skees, and in vain did Slagfin-Gjuki search for his lost bride. But Thjasse-Volund remained behind, and when the Winter War began to be waged, he retired to a deep mountain recess where he concealed his treasure, which he cursed with spells.

Then did Thjasse-Volund erect a smithy where he forged the magic Sword of Victory, so that he might wreak his vengeance upon the gods, and become chief ruler in Asgard. A wondrous serpent ring did he also fashion. It was given power to multiply without end, and when Mimer came suddenly upon the cunning artificer and bound him, he found within the smithy a chain of seven hundred rings which could fetter the wind.

In ancient England minstrels were wont to sing to Angles and Saxons of Volund, the wonder Smith, whom they called Weland. 1 He was a prince of the fairies. In other lands and in other tongues was the "Lay of Volund" sung also. Mimer was named Nithud, and called "King of Sweden".

Now King Nithud desired greatly to possess the treasures of Weland. So he sent mounted warriors to Wolfdales to take the elf prince captive. In bright moonlight the men rode forth clad in shining armour. When they reached Weland's hall, they entered it boldly, for the Smith, who was a skilled archer, was hunting afar. They beheld, hanging on the wall, a chain of seven hundred rings; they took it down, and one ring they kept. Then the men concealed themselves. In time Weland returned from the chase. Keen-eyed was he indeed, for he at once seized the rings and sat down on a bear's skin to count them. He found that one was missing, and he deemed fondly that his fairy wife had returned, because for her he had forged the ring. Musing thus a long time, he fell fast asleep. In sorrow he awoke; his hands were chained and his feet were fettered.

Then his captors bore him away, and they put him on an island to forge weapons and ornaments for the king. The heart of Weland was filled with wrath.

"On Nithud's belt," he cried, "I behold the sword which I fashioned with all my skill. I have lost for ever my shining blade. Bodvild, the queen, hath now the ring of my fairy bride. I shall ne'er be appeased."

In his secret heart Weland vowed to be avenged. He took no rest; he sat not by day nor slept at night. He kept striking with his hammer.

One day two young sons of the king entered the smithy. He slew them, and of their skulls made drinking-cups which he sent unto the king. Then unto him came also Bodvild, the queen, and she loved him because that she wore the magic ring. So by the wonder smith was she beguiled.

Weland ceased not to work until he had fashioned for himself eagle pinions. Then he flew away, leaving the queen to grieve bitterly for him because of the spell that was upon her, while Nithud lamented for his sons.

When Thjasse-Volund perished in Asgard, whither he had flown, and the other sons of Ivalde passed also, the curse remained upon the treasure, which was then guarded by a dwarf, or, as some tell, by a fiery dragon. In after days the curse fell upon each man who became possessed of the doomed hoard of the sons of Ivalde. And ever did the rings continue to multiply, and the chain to grow, ring following ring and linking one to the other, and each one like to the first that was forged by the wonder smith. The rings came down the Ages and the chain extended from land to land.

So grew also, link by link, the wondrous story chain of Ivalde's sons and of the swan maidens whom they loved and lost. Their fame can never end nor, their sorrows, nor can the doom of the treasure curse pass away while ring follows ring and the chain grows on.

Old is the ring tale of the Volsung's doom. By Iceland's skalds was it sung to harp music in other days, and warriors loved to hear it in the feasting hall as they drank mead, while the log fire reddened their faces and the night wind bellowed through the gloom.

For it was told that there was once a dwarf king named Hreidmar who possessed much treasure. He had three sons and three daughters. The first son was named Fafner, the second Ottar, and the third Regin. Fafner had great strength, and was fierce as he was surly: he claimed the possessions of the others for himself. Ottar was wont to fish in otter guise, and caught salmon in the river, which he laid out on the bank. Regin had neither the might of Fafner nor the cunning of Ottar, but he had skilful hands, and he became a wonder smith who shaped weapons of iron and ornaments of silver and gold.

One day Odin and Honer and Loke journeyed together, and it chanced that they drew nigh to the dwelling of Hreidmar. On the river bank they saw the otter: he had devoured a salmon and lay fast asleep. Loke, who was ever working evil, flung a sharp stone which smote the dwarf's son and killed him, and when he had done that, he took off the skin. Then the gods went towards the dwelling of Hreidmar and entered it.

Wroth indeed was the dwarf when he beheld the otter's skin, and he seized the gods and demanded ransom. So Loke had to go forth alone to obtain sufficient gold, while Odin and Honer were kept secure.

Now Loke knew that a great treasure hoard lay hidden in a dark mountain cavern; it was guarded by a dwarf named Andvari, who had taken the guise of a pike, and ever concealed himself in a deep pool below a waterfall. Loke resolved to possess the gold, so that the gods might be set free. So he went to Ran, the sea-goddess, and when he had told her of the plight of the gods, he borrowed her wondrous net. Then he hastened to the pool below the waterfall and fished up Andvari the pike.

"What fish art thou?" he said. "Thou dost lack cunning to be thus taken unawares. Of thee I demand life ransom in water gold."

The pike answered: "My name is Andvari, and my sire is Oinn. By a Norn of evil fortune was I doomed to pass my days in cold waters."

But Andvari could deceive not Loke, and was forced to pay life ransom, unwilling as he might be. So changing his shape, he went to the mountain cavern to yield up the treasure of which he was guardian. In vain Andvari sought to keep back a single gold ring which had power to multiply. But Loke demanded it with the rest. Then was the dwarf moved to great anger.

"My treasure is accursed," he cried. "It shall bring death to two brothers, and cause strife among eight kings. No man shall ever be made glad by my gold."

Now Hreidmar had demanded of the gods that ne should receive as ransom for his son's death as much gold as would cover the otter skin. Loke laid upon the skin all the treasure he had obtained save the ring, which he sought to keep for himself. But Hreidmar perceived that a single whisker hair of the otter stood bare, and he demanded that it should be covered. Unwillingly did Loke lay the ring upon it. Then were the gods ransomed and set free.

Loke was angry as the dwarf had been, because he had perforce to part with the magic ring, and ere he went his way he spoke fiercely to Hreidmar, saying:

"Thou hast received gold enough now, and my head is safe. But thou shalt never prosper, nor shall thy sons prosper after thee. Take thou with the gold the curse that follows it."

Then Fafner arose and demanded the entire treasure for himself. He fought with his sire, to whom he gave his deathwound.

Ere he died, Hreidmar besought his daughters to avenge him. But one, who was named Lyngheid, said that a sister could slay not her brother, whereat her sire foretold that she would have a daughter whose son would be his strong avenger.

Fafner drave forth his sisters and his brother Regin, and possessed himself of all the treasure. Heavily indeed did the curse fall upon him, and there was never again any joy in his heart. He went unto a lonely place, which was called "Glittering Heath", to be guardian of his ill-gotten gold, and he brooded over it there with anger and suspicion, until he became a wingless dragon which was feared and hated by all men.

Regin was thus made poor, and he went to a king whose wonder smith he became. He shaped strong weapons and many ornaments of gold and silver, for which he received great praise and royal honours. But in his heart he grieved because that he had been robbed by his brother of his just share of the treasure. Great was his desire that the dragon should be slain, so that he himself might become possessed of the wealth. But many years passed ere the avenger had birth, as Hreidmar had foretold, and Fafner was killed. The avenger was Sigurd, and his sire was Sigmund, son of Volsung. Noble was he and of great strength and battle power, like all his kin. Bright, too, were his days until the curse of the treasure fell upon him.

Now the sire of Volsung was Rerir, who was the, son of Sige. The sire of Sige was Odin. It chanced that Sige went forth to hunt in wintertime through a snow-wreathed forest. With him went Brede, who was a servant to Skadi, and was skilful in the chase. At the day's end Sige was enraged because Brede had taken more game than him; so he slew the man and concealed his body in a snow wreath. But the crime was discovered and Sige was banished from the land of his folk.

Then did Odin come to his son's aid, and gave him war vessels and a force of brave war-men. Many victories were won by Sige. His fame in battle was spread far and near, and he conquered and ruled the land of the Huns. He achieved great glory in his prime, but his life's end was clouded by dissensions in the kingdom. Even the queen's brothers conspired against him. Then a great battle was fought and Sige was slain. His son Rerir reigned after him. His kinsmen he slew and put their army to flight. Thus did he avenge the death of his sire.

Rerir became a greater monarch than Sige. He took for wife a noble lady, but as the years went on they fell to mourning, because that no child was born to them. So they prayed to the gods, and Freyja heard them with compassion. Then was one of her maids, who was a daughter of the giant, Hrimner 2 , sent to earth in crow guise bearing an apple for the queen. Thus was the queen's desire fulfilled. But soon afterwards the king sickened and died. The child was not born until he was seven years old, and he was named Volsung.

Now Volsung became the most powerful king of his time. He was far famed as a warrior, and he ruled his people justly and well. A great house did he cause to be built. In the midst of it grew a mighty oak which was named Branstock, and its branches overhung the roof. It was told that Volsung had for wife the giant's daughter, Ljod, whom gentle Freyja had sent with the magic apple to his queen mother. They had two sons and one daughter, and the first-born were Sigmund and his twin sister, Signy. The lad was as strong and brave as the girl was comely and fair.

At that time Siggeir was King of the Gauts, and he sought to have Signy for his bride. So it came that they were wed in Volsung's hall. A great feast was given and the warriors of the Gauts were there, and they made merry with Volsung's nobles and his two sons.

When the feast was over, a tall, old man entered the hall. He wore a blue cloak, mottled with grey, a round hat which was drawn down over his face, and tight breeches of linen. He had but one eye, and his feet were bare. In his hand he carried a gleaming sword, and he plunged it into Branstock right up to the hilt. None spoke, but they all watched him with mute amaze. Then he spake gravely unto them.

"I gift this sword", he said, "unto the man who can draw it from Branstock. He shall find it a goodly blade indeed, for it hath no equal."

Then he vanished from before them. . . . He was Odin, but no man knew him.

Now the chief warriors who were there laid hands, one after the other, upon the sword. But in vain did they endeavour to draw it forth. It stuck deep in the tree, defying them as it tempted them. But at length Sigmund grasped the hilt in his strong right hand, and pulled out the blade, which he thus had for himself as a gift from Odin.

Ill pleased was King Siggeir, for he sought greatly to possess the shining blade for himself, and he made offer to purchase it with much treasure; but Sigmund refused to deliver it up even though the King of the Gauts gave unto him all the gold he possessed.

Siggeir answered not. He sat moodily apart, for he deemed that the young warrior had spoken scornfully. With anger in his heart he devised a treacherous scheme with purpose to gain his desire and to wreak vengeance upon the kinsfolk of his queen. So next morning he made ready to depart, although the wedding celebrations were not ended, and he invited Volsung and his sons to visit him after the space of three months. Volsung gave his word to do so, and took leave of Siggeir and Signy. Unwilling indeed was the fair bride to leave the land of her people, and she would have parted with her husband had her father permitted her.

When three moons had waxed and waned, Volsung and his sons with their followers voyaged in three ships to Gautland. Fair winds favoured them and they made speedy passage, and on a fragrant evening they reached a haven and went ashore. Then came Signy to them in secret to persuade them to return, because that her husband had collected together a great army to accomplish their fall. But Volsung disdained to go back.

"A hundred battles I have fought," he said, "and I was ever victorious. In my youth I feared not my foemen, and in my old age I shall flee not before them. A man can die but once, and he can escape not death at his appointed time. So we shall fare onward nor fear aught, and no man shall tell that Volsung ever fled from danger or sued for peace." Signy desired to remain with her kin, but Volsung bade her return to Siggeir and stay with him.

Next morning brave Volsung and his two sons with all their followers went fully armed towards the hall of Siggeir. But a strong force came out against them, and after fierce and long fighting Volsung was slain with all his followers, and his two sons were taken captive. Siggeir then became possessed of Sigmund's sword, which was named Gram.

Earnestly did Signy entreat that her brothers should not be put to death, and although the cruel Gaut king relented somewhat, he caused them to be bound together to a felled tree in a deep forest. In the midst of the night a fierce she wolf came and devoured one of them. Secret messengers bore the sad tidings unto Signy and she grieved piteously. On the second night another son of Volsung was devoured; and so night after night one perished by the wolf until Sigmund alone remained alive.

Then Signy sent her messengers to smear Sigmund's body with honey, and they did according to her desire. In the darkness of night the wolf came to devour him. But when the monster smelt the sweet savour, she began to lick the young hero's face. At length she thrust her tongue into his mouth, and Sigmund seized it between his teeth and bit it off. As he struggled, he burst his fetters and the monster was slain.

Now the wolf was none other than King Siggeir's mother, who was skilled in witchcraft and had power to change her shape.

Sigmund found a safe retreat in the wood, where he made for himself a subterranean dwelling. In time Signy came to know that it fared well with him, but Siggeir knew not that Sigmund remained alive and awaited the hour of vengeance.

Footnotes

TEUTONIC MYTH AND LEGEND

by DONALD A. MACKENZIE

An Introduction to the Eddas & Sagas, Beowulf, The Nibelungenlied, etc.

London, Gresham Publications 1912

CHAPTER 24

Land of the Not-dead and many Marvels

King Gorm and Thorkill--Voyage of Exploration--Isle of Giants--Adventures in Geirrod's Land--City of Dreadful Night--Giants in Torture--The Treasures--Battle with Demons--Thorkill's Second Voyage--Loke bound--Erik in Odainsaker--The Magic Tower--Helge Thoreson--His Demon Bride --Spells, Blessings, and Prayers--Why Helge was made blind--Hadding in the Underworld--The Flowers of Hela.

THERE was a King in Denmark whose name was Gorm, and he had more desire to obtain knowledge than to win great glory in battle. He had royal courage, which he sought to prove in searching out the profound mysteries of the dread Unknown rather than by engaging in bloody conflict with his fellow men.

Now, Gorm came to hear of a lone, undiscovered land in the distant north, where vast treasure was concealed in caves. The giant Geirrod dwelt there, and although the way to his abode was full of peril for mortals, Gorm. was consumed with desire to explore it. Many travellers who had ventured forth to discover the giant's country never again returned; they had to pay the dues of death.

To reach the abode of Geirrod ships must needs cross the vast tempestuous ocean that encircles the earth, and voyage on through horrors undreamt of, until the sunway is passed and the stars vanish from sight. For in that dread land there is no light, nor warmth of summer; winter endures without end, and there is ever eternal darkness unbroken and deep.

But Gorm was without fear. No peril daunted him, nor could fear of suffering hold him back. He sought not wealth, although treasure abounded in the land of night; he desired rather the glory of achievement in searching out marvels unbeholden by living men.

So it came that the king made known his purpose to the people, and three hundred of his choicest war-men clamoured to share his renown. There was among them one braver than the rest, and it was he who had brought intelligence to Gorm of the dark undiscovered land. His name was Thorkill; he had coasted the perilous shores and knew well the path of ocean thither, so he was chosen to be leader of the exploring band.

Thorkill counselled that there should be built three strong and commodious ships, covered with thick ox hides to afford shelter from tempest spray, for vast food stores must needs be taken in them. As Thorkill advised, so did Gorm of Denmark do. He had the vessels built, they were covered with skins, and well laden with provisions and arms. In due season the voyage was begun. Northward sailed the billow-cleaving galleys, wind-driven through seething foam, and in each there were a hundred chosen men.

Ere long they came to Halogaland, and they had favoured progress on pleasant waters; but then the waves grew fierce, and the winds opposed them so that the galleys were tossed and stayed on perilous seas, driven hither and thither. and turned divers ways from their proper course. So they suffered delay, and their voyage was prolonged until their food stores were all but consumed, and hunger menaced them with death. In dire straits they made meagre pottage and fed sparingly thus on scanty fare for many days.

But at length their sufferings had end. One night in thick darkness they heard, booming hard on the wind, the breaking surf of shoreland billows. To the masthead at dawn a youth climbed nimbly, and in the distance he saw, hazed by spray, the high beetling cliffs of a rocky isle. Towards it were the galleys steered, and with glad eyes the wasted men gazed upon the welcoming land, rough and desolate as it was. Against wind and tide they made their way, until at length they reached a haven of refuge. Then they went ashore, scrambling over broken rocks, and climbed by slippery paths the stern precipitous heights of the island until they reached the level ground.

On a green place nigh to a deep forest they beheld great herds of browsing cattle. They were easy prey, for they feared not men, whom they had never before beheld; indeed the beasts assembled together to gaze with wonder on the sea-roving band.

Thorkill had knowledge of the island perils, and he counselled the men to slay not more of the cattle than were needful for a single repast, lest the giants who kept watch there might be angered, and should seek to prevent their departure. But the men heeded him not So great was their greed that they slew many cattle and filled the galleys with their flesh. Heavily they feasted and were made glad, but there were those of them who paid dearly for their rashness.

When night fell black, there were threats of dire vengeance. The forest resounded with loud bellowing, and from the rocky beach dread monsters dashed through the surf and beset the galleys. One, greater and fiercer than the others, strode knee-deep in the sea, swinging angrily a tree-like club. He rated the seafarers because they had slaughtered the cattle, and demanded to be given a man from each galley because of the loss which the island had suffered. There was no choice but to accept of the monster's terms; the few must oft be sacrificed so that the many may escape. So Thorkill cast lots. and three men were thus chosen and delivered unto the monsters who guarded the island herds.

Thereafter a favourable wind sprang up; the sails were set, and the ships drave onwards. Swiftly they voyaged and far. The days grew shorter and dimmer, until at length the sun was left behind and the stars vanished. . . . So traversing seas unknown they came nigh to Outer Bjarmaland. It was a dreary land, ice-cold and dark; the snows never melt there, and eternal night prevails.

Blacker than all else, the men saw dimly deep pathless forests through which ever roam strange ferocious beasts, unseen elsewhere. Many rivers were foaming seaward over sharp and treacherous reefs.

Thorkill at length found the haven he sought, and the ships were drawn high on the beach. Then were the tents pitched.

"From here" said Thorkill, "the journey to Geirrod's dwelling is short. . . . Now unto all give I timely warning. Let no man open his mouth unto any monster that comes nigh, lest words should be spoken which would give them power to injure you. None save one who knows the customs of this land can converse safely with its strange people."

Soon there came towards the seafarers a giant who called each seafarer by his name and spoke freely. The men were stricken with terror, and answered him not. Thorkill told them that the giant was Geirrod's brother. and was named Gudmund 1 he was guardian of that weird land, and protected from peril all men who sojourned there.

Gudmund spoke unto Thorkill and asked him why the men answered him not, and the wily seafarer answered that they had little knowledge of his language, and were ashamed to speak it.

Then the giant bade them all to a feast, and led the way along the banks of a river. Soon the travellers came to a golden bridge, and they desired to cross it, so fair did it seem, but Gudmund warned them that the river which they gazed upon divided the land of mortals from the land of horrid sights, and that the opposite bank was by sacred decree declared unlawful for mortals to tread. 2 So they went onward by the road they had taken, until they came to the dwelling place of Gudmund.

Privily did Thorkill then speak unto his companions, and warned them to eat not of the food placed before them, or drink of the liquor, or touch any man who was there.

As he commanded them so did they do, and at the feast they partook of their own viands only.

The feasting hall was ablaze with splendour. With Gudmund were his twelve stately sons and twelve beauteous daughters, and they made merry. But when the host perceived that King Gorm partook not of the food or the wine placed before him, and that the others likewise refused the fare, he spake to Thorkill, protesting that his hospitality was despised. But that wily seafarer said that his companions had long been unaccustomed to such rich fare, and feared to eat of the dainties lest they should be sickened.

Gudmund was ill-pleased, because the food was prepared with spells so that the guests might be made forgetful of the past and compelled to remain for ever ill the dismal shade among creatures non--human and weird.

So the giant sought to tempt them further. To the king he offered his daughter for wife, and unto the others he would fain give brides also. But Thorkill prevailed upon them to make refusal. All save four of the men obeyed him, and these were made insane. 3

Then Gudmund invited the king to visit his garden, so that he might partake of its wondrous fruits; but Gorm was warned by Thorkill and refused to be lured thither. So the host perceived that he was baffled; and consented to guide them to the dwelling of Geirrod. He then conducted the travellers over the river, and promised to await their return.

They entered a dismal land which was fraught with peril and full of terrors. Not long did Thorkill and his companions travel when they beheld a strange city which seemed to be composed of vapour. Dismal and gloomy it was, and covered with dust and slime as if it were neglected and deserted. Yet was it thickly peopled by sorrowing folk. The not-dead inhabited it amidst horrors and illusions.

Lofty were the battlements that surrounded the city, and surmounting them on stakes were the heads of fallen war-men. The gates were situated so high that they could not be reached save by ladders, and fierce hel-hounds kept watch before them. Thorkill went first, and climbed towards the entrance, which is ever open. To the hounds he flung a horn smeared with fat, and they licked it greedily and were appeased. Then his companions followed him, and together they entered the gloomy city of the not-dead.

Horrible were the shades that hastened past them with faces fixed aghast, and ever screaming woefully. They came and went beholding naught--

A great stream
Of people there was hurrying to and fro,
Numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam,

All hastening onward, yet none seemed to know
Whither he went, or whence he came, or why
He made one of the multitude, and so

Was borne amid the crowd, as through the sky
One of the million leaves of summer's bier;
Old age and youth, manhood and infancy

Mixed in one mighty torrent did appear,
Some flying from the thing they feared, and some
Seeking the object of another's fear.

Shelley

The streets were misty and loathsome; putrid scum and miry filth

Stifled the air till the dead wind stank.

Every sense was offended; every man was repulsed. The reeking foulness and nameless horrors froze Gorm and his followers with agonized loathing.

Then they came to Geirrod's mountain lair. The door opened on the ledge of a black precipice, but they faltered with icy dread before it; they shrank back lest they might be overcome. But Thorkill. spake words of encouragement and bade them fear not, but he warned them not to touch aught which might tempt them--gems, or gold, or any treasure--nor to be terrified by what was horrible and weird. If a hand were laid upon anything within, he told them, it could never be withdrawn; it would be bound; it would be knotted up. Then he bade them all to enter in companies of four. Broder and Buchi, the skilful archers. with Thorkill and the king went first; the others followed in order.

The doorposts were black with soot, which was centuries old and very deep; filth lay everywhere. Gaunt monster sentinels were on guard; they were numerous. noisy, restless, and menacing. Some leapt about with maniac-like frenzy, playing a strange repulsive game.

No man spoke. Half-stunned by belching filth reek from within they entered falteringly. The dwelling was wellnigh a ruin; the walls were dark and loathsome in the faint twilight; horrors loomed through the shadows. A roof of arrowy stings was above them, and the floors were made of venomous snakes steeped in foulness. Thorkill's companions were quaking with. terror, and they could scarcely endure the violent and suffocating fumes. Yet they could not forbear gazing about them, confused with horror and mute with alarm. Vast giants were stretched as if dead upon benches of iron; in silent agony they lay as if carved from stone. Others wallowed in torture.

Thorkill led the strangers through a rocky fissure, and they beheld, sitting on a high ledge, the old giant Geirrod. His body was transfixed to the cliff by a javelin. Three giant maids with broken spines lay squirming beside him. These were the monsters whom Thor had thus punished because that they sought to overcome him with treachery. 4

From the halls of torture the bold seafarers passed to a chamber of treasures, where the air was sweet. Fair indeed was the spectacle they beheld. Tankards of mead stood around them; these were encircled with fine gold and decorated with rings of silver. Among the treasures were a gleaming ivory tusk, circled with gold, a golden armlet, and a great drinking-horn, graven with pictures and set with sparkling gems.

Three men with covetous hearts could resist not their desire to be possessed of these rare treasures, and seized them greedily. Then did they pay life's cost for their boldness. The tusk became a sword which pierced the heart of him who laid hands upon it, the armlet became a venomous snake which stung to death the man who held it, and the great horn was transformed into a fiery dragon which devoured the robbers. 5

The other men were stricken anew with terror in that dread land, and they, all feared they would share the fate of their companions. But they passed in safety to another chamber, which had greater splendour than that which they left. It was filled with shining armour and bright weapons, and rich apparel radiant with silver and gold and ablaze with jewels. Fairest of all were a great king's robe, with his splendid headgear and his graven gem-decked waistbelt.

Thorkill. who had warned others, could not resist his desire to possess some of the rare treasure, so, impulsively he seized the royal mantle. . . . Then did dire disaster threaten them. The chamber tottered as if shaken by earthquake; women's screams were heard, and wailing voices asked if these despoilers were to be endured any longer.... The whole dwelling was stirred with noisy alarm. Monstrous beings who seemed to lie dead sprang suddenly to their feet, menacing and horrible, and with hordes of wail and shadowy furies made fierce attack upon the strangers, who were begirt with awesome peril. It was well for Thorkill and the others that the skilled archers, Broder and Buchi, were with them, for they bent their bows and shot magic arrows against the assailing horde. Spears were also cast and deadly missiles were flung from ready slings. So were the Furies beaten back. although many men fell, to be torn asunder by monsters. Those who survived made speedy escape from Geirrod's dwelling, and from the city of the not-dead, and returned to Gudmund. who waited for them, as he had promised. Then did the giant ferry them over the river and take them unto his own dwelling.

Again they were feasted and again did they resist the temptation to partake of the food and wine, and have for brides the demon maids that were offered to them. But Buchi, the archer, was stricken with love for a daughter of Gudmund, and he was driven insane in her embrace. He who contended against the monsters in Geirrod's dwelling was overcome by a maiden of gentle seeming, and he never again returned to his native land, for when Thorkill and the king took their departure he followed them towards the shore, but he was caught in a river and dashed to death.

The king and Thorkill, mourning for those who had fallen, and especially Buchi, made haste to leave the land of terror. But their voyage homeward was beset with perils; the seas wallowed in tempest, and the galleys were driven hither and thither by contrary winds, so that they suffered great delay. The food stores were at length exhausted and many died of hunger. Prayers were made to divers gods without avail, but at length the king made vows and offerings to Utgard-Loke, whereat the seas were calmed, and a favourable wind drove the vessels towards the haven of home. Of the three hundred men who had set forth to visit the land of the not-dead, but twenty returned to Denmark.

The king sought not further adventures over perilous seas towards distant lands. He lived at peace after sore travail, and he engaged in meditation regarding the mysteries of life and death. Certain teachers convinced him that to men's souls immortal life is given, and Gorm wondered whether the gods would cause him to suffer torture or reward him with bliss, because that he had spent his days in adoration and had given peace offerings.

Now the god whom the king favoured most was Utgard-Loke, and his friends counselled him that he should send Thorkill to appease that deity in the land of night. They also made grave accusations of treachery against the brave seafarer, who waxed wroth and demanded that these evil advisers of the king should accompany him on his fearsome voyage. Gorm forced the men to sail with Thorkill, and unwillingly they went forth to face the perils of the Unknown.

Great were the sufferings of the men who went towards the dwelling of Utgard-Loke. Many died from starvation ere they came to the land of eternal darkness. At length they reached a rocky shore on which there was a black tremendous precipice. Thorkill and his companions went ashore, and they came to the narrow entrance of a vast cavern. Iron benches were seen within by the light of the torches carried, and they perceived that the floor swarmed with venomous snakes. They went inward on a rocky ledge, and passed a warm and foul river, and afterwards entered a chamber which reeked with loathsome vapour and was strewn with slime. Then did they behold Utgard-Loke. 6 He was bound to the rock with great fetters. So long had he lain there that his hair and his beard had grown hard as elk horns. Desiring to return homeward with proof of his achievement, Thorkill snatched out a single hair of Utgard-Loke's beard, whereat a foul stench came forth. Then flying serpents made attack upon the strangers, spouting venom which caused limbs to wither and heads to be struck off, so that but few men escaped to the galleys.

When Thorkill returned to Denmark he was so greatly disfigured by the venom that his friends hardly knew him. He went to the king and related all he had seen and what had happened to him, and he showed the horn-like hair of Loke's beard from which deadly fumes escaped and suffocated several who were nigh. Gorm was terror-stricken when he came to know of the horrors of the foul dwelling of his favoured god, Loke, and he fell back dead ere Thorkill had finished his tale.

Beyond the realms of torture are "the Glittering Plains", where good men and women who have died upon earth live ever in bliss and amidst scenes of beauty. This part of the Other-world is also called Odainsaker, "the acre of the not-dead", and Jord lifanda manna, "the earth of living men".

Erik, a prince of Denmark, made a vow that he would go thither, and another prince from Norway, who was named Erik also, set forth with him and their followers towards the east, and they journeyed a great distance beyond India, until they reached a dark forest, in a land where the sun never shone and the stars were beholden by day. Onward they went through perilous places until there was light again. They came at length to a river, which was spanned by a bridge of stone, and on the other side was a green and level plain. A great dragon stood upon the bridge, keeping constant guard, and its jaws gaped wide, issuing forth flame and smoke. Erik of Denmark feared to go farther, and said they must needs return; but Erik of Norway drew his sword, and seizing the right hand of one of his followers rushed forward with him. In horror and anguish the others beheld the two men vanishing in the dragon's jaws, so they mourned for them greatly and returned home by the way they had come.

Many years passed by, and at length Erik of Norway and his companion appeared in their native land. They told that when they went nigh to the dragon they were blinded by smoke, but they pressed on. Soon the air was cleared, and they found that they had crossed the bridge and were travelling over a glittering plain which was covered with gleaming flowers that gave forth sweet odours. It was ever summer there and ever bright and warm, but there were no shadows cast by flowers or trees or living beings. They journeyed on until they saw a beauteous tower suspended in mid-air. A ladder hung from it, and they climbed towards the door. Fair was the room they entered. The carpet was of hushing velvet, and on a gleaming table, which was laden with rich dainties, stood dishes of silver and wine goblets of graven gold. Sumptuous beds were in the tower also, and the air was filled with faint perfume. Erik and his companion were made glad, because they deemed that they had at length come unto Odainsaker.

Now while Erik lay in soft slumber there appeared before him a shining youth, who was his guardian spirit, 7 and he asked the prince if he desired to remain there forever. But Erik said that it was his desire to return, so that he might relate the wonders he had beheld. Then the spirit told him he had reached not Odainsaker, which lay beyond, and was so very fair that the tower and the land over which it was suspended seemed dreary and unlovely in comparison. But no man who ever went thither could return again. It was the prince's choice, however, to seek his fatherland; and when he returned and told of the wondrous things he had beheld he was called Erik the Far-travelled.

Helge Thoreson also visited the Glittering Plains. In a great forest he met Gudmund and his twelve daughters, who were clad in scarlet robes, and rode upon stately steeds harnessed with gold. Ingeborg, the fairest of the maids, was moved with love towards Helge, who remained with her for three days. A great tent was erected and a feast prepared; rich were the dainties, and the dishes were of silver and gold. When Helge took his departure he received much treasure from Gudmund, and he returned with it to his sire, nor were men ever told whence it was obtained.

There came a great tempest on Yule-night, and in the midst of it two strange men entered the dwelling of Helge's sire, and took the young man away.

When a year had gone past Helge appeared again with the two men, and stood before King Olav Trygveson in his feasting hall. The strangers gave to the monarch .two great drinking horns, which were decorated with gold, and said that they were sent to him by Gudmund. These were then filled with mead, and the bishop blessed them, 8 but when the horns were handed to the strangers they threw them away. Then the fire went out; every light was extinguished; there was clamour and confusion in the feasting hall and the guests were terror-stricken. Afterwards it was found that Helge and the strangers had vanished. Then were prayers offered up for Helge's return.

At next Yuletide the strangers came back with Helge unto the king, and immediately went away, leaving behind them the young man, who was stricken with blindness. He told that he had spent happy days with Gudmund, but he was forced to return because of the prayers which were offered up. Ere he parted from his spirit bride she made him blind, lest his eyes should ever gaze with love upon the daughters of men.

Now after Hadding, son of Halfdan, had slain the sea dragon 9 he had strange adventures. He rescued, from a great giant Ragnhild, the fair daughter of the King of Nitheri, and she became his bride. One evening, in midwinter, while they feasted together, a spirit woman rose up, and she bore with her a bunch of white cowbanes, freshly plucked, and she asked Hadding, who wondered greatly to see summer flowers at such a time, if be had desire to behold the place where they grew. The young king answered her that he would fain see it, whereat she flung her mantle over him and together they disappeared.

'Twas thus it came that Hadding set forth to journey towards Hela. He went through a dark land, and black were the mists about him, while the air was ice-cold. Then he came to a road which was daily trod by many feet, and he walked on until he reached a swiftly flowing river which was filled with sharp and pointed weapons. With his guide Hadding crossed the bridge, and came to a plain where two great armies contended in battle. Thus did many men who were sword-slain upon earth choose to live in Hela, where they performed again their deeds of might and fell without fear.

HUNDINGSBANE'S RETURN TO VALHAL
From the painting by E. Wallcousins

At length the woman took Hadding towards a place which was surrounded by a high wall. He had already gazed from afar off, as he descended the hills, upon the beauties of the enclosure, where grew the flowers which were plucked in midwinter and stately beings in robes of purple had blissful dwelling.

The old woman tried to leap over the wall, but was unable to do so. She, however, showed Hadding that the place within was indeed the land of life. She seized a fowl which she carried with her, and flung its head, which he wrung off, over the wall. The head was speedily restored again, and the bird crowed loudly.

Hadding thereafter returned again unto his own land, and he endured many perils upon the way.

Spenser's Mimer

Guyon finds Mammon in a delve
Sunning his treasure hoar,
Is by him tempted and led down
To see his secret store.

At last he came upon a gloomy glade,
Covered with boughs and shrubs from heaven's light,
Whereas he sitting found in secret shade
An uncouth, savage and uncivil wight, 10
Of grisly hue and foul ill-favoured sight;
His face with smoke was tann'd and eyes were bleared,
His head and beard with soot were ill bedight,
His coal-black hands did seem to have been seared
In smith's fire-spitting forge, and nails like claws appeared.

His iron coat, all overgrown with rust,
Was underneath envelop with gold
Whose glittering gloss, darkened with filthy dust,
Well yet appear to have been of old
A work of rich entail and curious mould,
Woven with antiques and wild imag'ry:
And in his lap a mass of coin he told
And turn upside down, to feed his eye
And covetous desire with his huge treasury

. . . . . .

And round about him lay on every side
Great heaps of gold that never could be spent;
Of which some were rude ore, not purified
Of Mulciber's devouring element;
Some others were new driven, and distent
Into great ingots and to wedges square;
Some in round plates withouten moniment 11
But most were stampt, and in their metal bare
The antique shapes of Kings and Kesars strong and rare

. . . . . .

"What secret place," quoth he, 12 "can safely hold
So huge a mass, and hide from heaven's eye?
Or where hast thou thy wonne 13 that so much gold
Thou canst preserve from wrong and robbery?"
"Come thou," quoth he, "and see." So by and by
Through that thick covert he him led, and found
A darksome way, which no man could descry,
That deep descended through the hollow ground,
And was with dread and horror compass around.

So soon as Mammon there 14 arrived, the door
To him did open and afforded way:
Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore,
Ne darkness him ne danger might dismay.
Soon as he entered was, the door straightway
Did shut, and from behind it forth there leapt
An ugly fiend, more foul than dismal day;
The which with monstrous stalk behind him stept;
And ever as he went due watch upon him kept.

. . . . . .

Both roof, and floor, and walls, were all of gold,
But overgrown with dust and old decay,
And hid in darkness, that none could behold
The hue thereof; for view of cheerful day
Did never in that house itself display,
But a faint shadow of uncertain light,
Such as a lamp, whose life does fade away;
Or as the moon, cloath with cloudy night,
Does shew to him that walks in fear and sad affright.

In all that room was nothing to be seen
But huge great iron chests, and coffers strong,
All barr'd with double bends, that none could weene
Them to enforce with violence or wrong;
On every side they plac were along,
But all the ground with skulls was scatter
And dead men's bones, which round about were flung
Whose lives, it seem, whilome there were shed,
And their vile carcases now left unburi

They forward pass; ne Guyon yet spoke word,
Till that they came unto an iron door
Which to them opened of its own accord,
And showed of riches such exceeding store,
As eye of man did never see before,
Ne ever could within one place be found,
Though all the wealth, which is or was of yore,
Could gathered be through all the world around,
And that above were added to that underground.

The charge thereof unto a covetous spright
Commanded was, who thereby did attend,
And warily awaited day and night,
From other covetous fiends it to defend,
Who it to rob and ransack did intend.
Then Mammon, turning to that warrior, said:
"Lo, here the world bless! lo, here the end
To which all men do aim, rich to be made!
Such grace now to be happy is before thee laid."

He brought him, through a darksome narrow strayt 15 ,
To a broad gate all built of beaten gold:
The gate was open; but therein did wait
A sturdy villain, striding stiff and bold,
As if the Highest God defy he would:
In his right hand an iron club he held
But he himself was all of golden mould,
Yet had both life and sense, and well could weld
That cursed weapon, when his cruel foes he quell'd.

. . . . . .

He brought him in. The room was large and wide,
As it some guild or solemn temple were;
Many great golden pillars did up-bear
The massy roof, and riches huge sustain;
And every pillar decked was full dear
With crowns and diadems, and titles vain,
Which mortal princes wore while they on earth did reign.

A route of people there assembled were,
Of every sort and nation under sky
Which with great uproar pressed to draw near
To th' upper part, where was advanced high
A stately siege 16 of sovran majesty;
And thereon sat a woman gorgeous gay,
And richly clad in robes of royalty,
That never earthly prince in such array
His glory did enhance, and pompous pride display.

And all that press did round about her swell
To catchen hold of that long chain, thereby
To climb aloft, and others to excell:
That was Ambition, rash desire to sty,
And every link thereof a step of dignity.''
After the drawing by Walter Crane. By permission of Messrs. George Allen & Co.

Her face right wondrous fair did seem to be,
That her broad beauties beam great brightness threw
Through the dim shade, that all men might it see;
Yet was not that same her own native hue
But wrought by art and counterfeited shew,
Thereby more lovers unto her to call;
Natheless most heavenly fair in deed and view
She by creation was, till she did fall;
Thenceforth she sought for helps to cloak her crime withal.

There, as in glist'ring glory she did sit,
She held a great gold chain y-link well,
Whose upper end to highest heaven was knit,
And lower part did reach to lowest hell;
And all that press did round about her swell
To catchen hold of that long chain, thereby
To climb aloft, and others to excell:
That was Ambition, rash desire to sty 17 ,
And every link thereof a step of dignity.

Which whenas Guyon saw, he gan enquire,
What meant that press about that lady's throne,
And what she was that did so high aspire?
Him Mammon answer: "That goodly one
Whom all that folk with such contention
Do flock about, my dear, my daughter is; 18
Honour and dignity from her alone
Deriv are, and all this world bliss,
For which ye men do strive; few get, but many miss.

From"The Faerie Queene", Book II, Canto VII.

The Garden of Hela

Him forth thence led
Through grisly shadows by a beaten path
Into a garden goodly garnish
With herbs and fruits, whose kinds mote not be redd 19
Not such as earth out of her fruitful womb
Throws forth to men, sweet and well savour,
But direful deadly black, both leaf and bloom,
Fit to adorn the dead and deck the dreary tomb.

. . . . . .

The garden of Prerpina 20 this hight:
And in the midst thereof a silver seat,
With a thick arbour goodly over dight,
In which she often used from open heat
Herself to shroud, and pleasures to entreat:
Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree
With branches broad dispread and body great,
Cloath with leaves, that none the wood might see
And laden all with fruit as thick as it might be.

Their fruit were golden apples glist'ring bright
That goodly was their glory to behold;
On earth like never grew, no living wight
Like ever saw, but they from hence were sold. . . .

. . . . . .

The war-like elf much wondered at this tree 21
So fair and great, that shadowed all the ground;
And his broad branches laden with rich fee
Did stretch themselves, without the utmost bound
Of this great garden, compassed with a mound. . . .

The River of Torture

Which to behold he clomb up to the bank;
And, looking down, saw many damn wights
In those sad waves, which direful deadly stank,
Plong continually of cruel sprites,
That with their piteous cries and yelling shrightes 22
They made the further shore resounden wide:
Amongst the rest of those same rueful sights
One curs creature he by chance espied
That drench lay full deep under the garden side.

Deep was he drench to the upmost chin,
Yet gap still as coveting to drink
Of the cold liquor which he waded in;
And, stretching forth his hand, did often think
To reach the fruit which grew upon the brink;
But both the fruit from land, and flood from mouth,
Did fly a-back, and made him vainly swink;
The whiles he starved with hunger, and with drouth
He daily died, yet never throughly dyen couth 23 .

He looked a little further and espied
Another wretch, whose carcas deep was drent 24
Within the river which the same did hide.
But both his hands most filthy feculent 25
Above the water were on high extent,
And feigned to wash themselves incessantly.
Yet nothing clearer were for such intent,
But rather fouler seem to the eye;
So lost his labour vain and idle industry.

The Fruit of Forgetfulness

Infinite more tormented in like pain
He there beheld, too long here to be told;
Ne Mammon would there let him long remain,
For terror of the tortures manifold,
In which the damn souls he did behold,
But roughly him bespake, "Thou fearful fool
Why takest not of that same fruit of gold?
Ne sittest down on that same silver stool,
To rest thy weary person in the shadow cool?"

All which he did to do him deadly fall
In frail intemperance through sinful bait
To which if he inclined had at all
That dreadful fiend, which did behind him wait,
Would him have rent in thousand pieces straight;
But he was wary wise in all his way
And well perceiv his deceitful sleight,
Ne suffered lust his safety to betray;
So goodly did beguile the guiler of his prey.

And now he was so long remain there
That vital powers gan wax both weak and wan
For want of food and sleep, which two up-bear
Like mighty pillars, this frail life of man,
That none without the same enduren can:
For now three days of men were overwrought,
Since be this hardy enterprise began:
Forthy 26 great Mammon fairly he besought
Into the world to guide him back as he him brought.

The god, though loth, yet was constrained t' obey;
For longer time than that no living wight
Below the earth might suffered be to stay:
So back again him brought to living light.
But all so soon as his enfeebled spright
Gan suck this vital air into his breast,
As overcome with too exceeding might,
The life did flit away out of her nest,
And all his senses were with deadly fit oppressed.

Hela in the Border Ballads

The Three Roads

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;
And there he saw a ladye bright,
Come riding doon by the Eildon Tree.

. . . . . .

"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said;
"Harp and carp along wi' me;
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be."

Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird 27 shall never daunton me."
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.

. . . . . .

She's mounted on her milk-white steed;
She's taen true Thomas up behind:
And aye, whene'er her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on;
The steed gaed swifter than the wind;
Until they reach'd a desert wide,
And living land was left behind.

Light down, light down, now, true Thomas,
And lean your head upon my knee;
Abide and rest a little space
And I will shew you ferlies three.

O see ye not yon narrow road
So thick beset with thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few enquires.

And see ye not that braid, braid road,
That lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven.

"And see not ye that bonny road,
That winds aboot the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.

"But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see;
For, if you speak word in Elfyn land,
Ye 'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie."

O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring o' the sea.

It was mirk, mirk night, and there was nae starn light,
And they waded through red blood to the knee;
For a' the blood that 's shed on earth
Rins through the springs o' that countrie.

Sync they came on to a garden green,
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree
"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;
It will gie thee the tongue that can never lee."

Thomas The Rhymer.

The Mountains

"O where have you been, my long, long love,
This long seven years and more?"
"O I'm come to seek my former vows
Ye granted me before."

. . . . . .

She has taken up her two little babes,
Kissed them baith cheek and chin;
"O fare ye weel, my ain two babes,
For I'll ne'er see you again."

. . . . . .

She had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When dismal grew his countenance,
And drumlie grew his ee.

The masts that were like the beaten gold,
Bent not on the heaving seas;
But the sails, that were o' the taffetie,
Fill'd not in the east land breeze.

They had not sailed a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Until she espied his cloven foot,
And she wept right bitterlie.

O hold your tongue of your weeping," says he,
"Of your weeping now let it be;
I will show you how the lilies grow
On the banks of Italy."

"O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills,
That the sun shines sweetly on?"
"O yon are the hills of heaven," he said,
"Where you will never win."

"O whaten a mountain is yon," she said,
"All so dreary wi' frost and snow?"
"O yon is the mountain of hell," he cried,
"Where you and I will go."

The Demon Lover.

Demon Vengeance

Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies
Out o' a bush o' broom--
"She that has borrowed young Tamlane
Has gotten a stately groom."

Up then spake the Queen o' Fairies
Out o' a bush o' rye
"She's taen awa' the bonniest Knight
In a' my companie.

"But had I kenn'd, Tamlane," she says,
"A lady wad borrowed thee,
I wad ta'en out thy twa grey een,
Put in twa een o' tree.

Had I kenn'd, Tamlane," she says,
"Before ye came frae hame
I wad ta'en out your heart o' flesh,
Put in a heart o' stane."

"Had I but had the wit yestreen
That I hae coft the day
I'd paid my kane seven times to hell
Ere you'd been won away."

The Young Tamlane.

The Birk o' Paradise

There lived a wife at Usher's Well,
And a wealthy wife was she,
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them o'er the sea.

They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
When word came to the carline wife
That her three sons were gane.

They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely three,
When word came to the carline wife,
That her sons she 'd never see.

"I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fishes in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood." 28

It fell about the Martinmas,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carline wife's three sons came hame,
And their hats were o' the birk.

It neither grew in syke or ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheugh;
But at the gates of Paradise
That birk grew fair eneugh.

Gilly Flowers

The fields aboot this city fair
Were a' wi' roses set,
Gilly flowers and carnations rare
Which canker could not fret."

Clerk Saunders

The Garden Fruit

She led him intil a fair herbere,
There fruit groand was gret plent
Pears and apples, both ripe they were,
The date and eke the damsyn tree,
The fig and eke the wineberry.

. . . . . .

He pressed to pull the fruit with his hand,
As man for food was nyhonde faint,
She said, "Thomas let that stand,
Or else the fiend will thee attent.

"If thou pull them, sooth to say,
Thy soul goes to the fire of Hell
It comes not out till Domisday
And there ever in pain to dwell."

Thomas The Rhymer.

Footnotes

1 Mimer.
2 Saxo's words are: "Cujus transeundi cupidos revocavit, docens, eo alveo humana a monstrosis rerum secrevisse naturam, nec mortalibus ultra fas esse vestigiis."
3 In Highland lore these unions are followed by speedy death. The demon brides crush their lovers.
4 See chapter "Thor in Peril".
5 Thjasse-Volund's Sword of Victory and multiplying ring. Here we have the treasure which was cursed, and the dragon guardian of Beowulf, Volsunga saga, &c. The horn is Gjallar-horn which Heimdal is to blow at Ragnarok.
6 This is evidently Loke, not the Utgard-Loki in the chapter "The City of Enchantments ". Loke's place of torture was situated in the utmost part of Nifel hel.
7 His Hamingje.
8 The blessing counteracts the evil influence of a spell. In the Highlands a child should be blessed ere its name is asked, and strangers should bless a house on entering it. The blessing is not only a proof of friendly intentions, but a preventive, for he who blesses is unable to practise black magic for the time being.
9 See Chapter "The Gods Reconciled".
10 This is Spenser's Mammon. He resembles very closely Gudmund-Mimer, the chief of elfin smiths who in Norse mythology produce the vast stores of treasure accursed.
11 Superscription, image.
12 The Knight Guyon.
13 Dwelling.
14 The gate of hell.
15 Street, narrow passage.
16 Throne.
17 Ascend.
18 Urd, goddess of fate, is Mimer's daughter.
19 Must not be declared.
20 In Saxo she is Urd.
21 Like Ygdrasil.
22 Shrieks.
23 Could.
24 Drenched.
25 Muddy, foul.
26 Therefore.
27 Urd--destiny.
28 She had evidently power to work a spell and secure her wish. Belief in wishing power is not yet quite extinct in Scotland.